Interference
by Ms. Redd
Summary: They're both perfectly fine with this casual, not-boyfriend-and-girlfriend arrangement they have going on. Why can't everyone else be?


_**A/N**__: Hi all. It's been a while, right? Okay, anyway, this story is actually a follow-up to another story that I wrote a couple months ago that I didn't post on here (for a few reasons, but that's beside the point). After that one I was *encouraged* to write this one. Now, you can read this one by itself, I suppose, but where's the fun in that? The other is posted at archiveofourown, author 'msred,' story 'Surprise'. Quick warning, that story was an entry to PornBattleXIV, so it's basically pure smut. Just a heads up._

_And for the record, that one kind of exists in the same universe as '(Not So) Perfect Timing' (in my own head, anyway), which was inspired by Paceismyhero's 'Be Better.' So yeah, if you feel like following that trail of breadcrumbs …_

~.~

Rachel squeezes her eyes shut and tries to convince herself that it's not as late as she knows it is. The game ends, though, as soon as the rings holding her makeshift wall screech along the curtain rod. She barely manages to not flinch when Kurt's voice fills the room.

"Up up up!" he chirps. "Put some -,"

"Clothes on Puckerman," Noah mumbles, his arm tightening around her waist and his lips moving across her shoulder where he has his face buried against her. "I got it. How come you never tell _her _to put _her _clothes on?" he asks, turning his head just enough that his cheek rests high on her chest and his voice is no longer muffled. "I mean, I'd think you'd _prefer _seein' me without my clothes on. Or is my hot bod first thing in the mornin' just too much for ya?"

"Oh please," Kurt groans, and Rachel can practically see his eyes roll through her own closed lids. "I'm going to go gag myself. By the time I'm out of the bathroom you need to be up."

Noah's head lifts off her chest, and everyone in the room knows the basic sum of what he's going to say before a single word escapes.

"Don't," Kurt deadpans just before Rachel hears the curtain screech closed again. (She still hasn't opened her eyes. Her eyelids feel as if they weigh five pounds each.) "I'm leaving in 30 minutes," he calls loudly, almost too loudly for the hour and the size of their apartment, and Rachel knows it's not _his _fault she didn't get enough sleep last night, but still. "With or without you," he tacks on, in case that wasn't already clear.

"I don't want to move," she groans, even as she lifts one hand just enough to drop it onto the arm he has slung across her, her fingertips rubbing lightly over the taut skin of his bicep.

"Good," he grunts back. "Let's don't. He can go and we'll just stay here."

She actually hums at that, because at the moment, it sounds really, really nice. And not just the part about not having to get out of bed, but also the part where she gets to spend a week in the city – in the apartment – with Noah alone. They don't get to do that a lot, spend time alone together outside her bedroom, and she really does enjoy his company, fully clothed or otherwise.

She doesn't mind this … _arrangement _they have. She quite enjoys it, actually. She never thought of herself as someone who could see a man casually, or however else you might want to describe what they're doing. In fact, she'd really always been the exact opposite of that. She almost demanded that Finn put a label on their relationship practically immediately after his relationship with Quinn ended the first time (which, in hindsight, may have played a role in that whole 'inner rockstar' business of his, though she is in no way absolving him of blame for his lapse in good judgment). She and Jesse were so much alike, too much, really (in many ways, though she likes to believe she's not as manipulative, not as _hurtful_ as him), and they were basically official the moment they sang together. And there had been the feeling that something may have been starting with Brody – or at least that he wanted something to be starting, she was sure of that – but she wasn't quite ready for a relationship with him, and the idea of a casual something never crossed her mind.

But then Noah showed up, sweeping back into her life with kisses and touches and professions of wanting her, and all thoughts of Brody and whatever may have been developing with him were pushed out of her mind completely. And she ended up right in the middle of that casual something that she never imagined for herself. But it's good. It works for them, somehow. He doesn't call her his girlfriend, and she's never felt compelled to call him her boyfriend. She does know that he's not sleeping with anyone else (she is sure that would be a deal breaker for her, even if she does seem to be much more open to this undefined thing than she would ever have thought), if only because between his job and the amount of time he spends at her apartment, he wouldn't have time to be with anyone else. (It's more than that, though, and she knows it. She's pretty sure _he _knows she knows it, and that doesn't seem to bother him.)

Even while part of her really, really wants to take him up on that suggestion, though, the rest of her is actually starting to buzz with the excitement of their pending trip. It's been months since she was back in Lima, six weeks since she last saw her fathers. She's ready for this trip. She needs it. And he keeps grumbling about how 'lame' it's all going to be, but, for one thing, no one is _making _him go with her and Kurt. And for another, she overheard him on the phone with Jake the other day as she was getting out of the shower, and the two were making plans to take Sarah to Cedar Point on Thursday, the day after the younger two are finished with school.

"Come on," she finally tells him as she pushes herself up so that she's sitting. He hasn't really moved, so now his arm just lays across her thighs. "You know he'll just be back in here if he doesn't see one of us come out in the next minute or two." He says nothing, but grunts as his fingers dig into her leg. "Do you want me to shower first?"

His head snaps up then and he stares at her like she's absolutely crazy. (Like, _for real_ crazy, not just the 'bat shit crazy' he tells her every other day she is.) "Fuck that. Together." She smiles a little and shakes her head while he pushes himself up to sit next to her. "I mean, we're like in a hurry or whatever, right? No point wastin' time on two showers."

He's smirking now, and she shakes her head and climbs out of bed, his eyes on her backside as she goes for the robe on the hook just inside her wardrobe. "Somehow," she cinches the belt around her waist and turns to return his smirk, "I don't see how us showering together could possibly _save _time, given our track record with shared showers."

"Come on," he goads, yanking the sweatpants he's just pulled out of the nightstand over his hips, "I'll keep my hands to myself." The two-fingered salute he holds up loses its impact when he winks devilishly at her. "Scout's honor."

"Now Noah," she admonishes, "I do not appreciate being lied to."

"Baby," he gasps a little and widens his eyes, pretends to be hurt. "I would _never_ … Okay, fine," he laughs when she just rolls her eyes at his antics, "I'll only touch a little. And I'll keep it PG. Thirteen."

"Noah," she sighs, but she knows, just as well as he does, that she gave in the second the word 'together' passed over his lips. "We have to be back in this room, _clean_," she emphasizes, "in 10 minutes. Ten minutes, do you understand me?" she reiterates when he grins and reaches out to play with the end of the fuzzy belt keeping her robe secure around her.

"Ten minutes. Clean. I got it."

And he mostly keeps his word, because 15 minutes later they're both back in the bedroom, him rolling up the sleeves on the plaid shirt he'd pulled out of the drawer where she puts the clothes he inevitably leaves behind on the rare occasion he goes home, and her pulling her damp hair over one shoulder to braid it loosely. She just smiles when he comes to stand behind her, the knuckle of his forefinger brushing up and down over the back of her neck while she secures an elastic band around the end of her braid.

"You look beautiful," he tells her, his large hand unfolding to curl around her neck and his thumb tracing tiny circles behind her ear.

"Noah," she actually blushes and drops her head a little, glancing at him through the mirror of her vanity from under her lashes. She doesn't blush because of him nearly as much as she used to – she's grown accustomed to the lewd comments he makes solely for that purpose – but his voice is warm and thick and _so sincere _and it just makes her feel a little fuzzy inside. "I've barely done anything to my hair, I'm wearing shorts and a t-shirt, and I have on almost no make-up." She's trying to point out that he's being rather ridiculous, and maybe also to convince herself that he just wants something from her, that he's not nearly as sincere as he sounds.

"I know," is all he says, leaving his hand where it is and running the other down her braid, his thumb tracing over the woven pattern created by her hair. "I like you like this. Just … natural."

Her breath catches a little and before she even really thinks about what she's doing, she puts down the little pot of shimmery rose-colored powder that she uses as both an eye shadow and a cheek highlighter, unused.

"I'm going to brush my teeth," she tells him as she stands and turns to walk around him. "You should double-check your bag." She smiles when he just rolls his eyes but moves toward the chair where the duffel bag he'd dropped off the previous day on his way to work rests.

He catches her in the bathroom just as she's securing her toothbrush in its travel case and drops a kiss to the top of her head before using his hands on her hips to shuffle her out of the way so he can get to the sink.

"Got your bags," he tells her around the toothbrush sticking out of his mouth, "took 'em to the door."

She tries not to think about how _domestic_ it all feels, how much like a _boyfriend _he's acting, as she goes to drop her toothbrush into the bag he carried into the living room for her. She reminds herself that she's happy with things the way they are and that he certainly wouldn't want it any other way.

~.~

Rachel knew as soon as Kurt suggested it that having Finn pick them up at the airport would be awkward. She knew it, but was too proud to bring it up. It's not like she and Finn can't be around one another. They'd actually had lunch the last time she was back in Lima. But it had been a short trip – a three-day weekend back in February – and she'd gone alone and Noah's name hadn't been mentioned once. Sharing a pizza at the little place down the street from the high school just didn't seem like the right time or place to bring up the fact that she was engaging in some sort of 'friends with benefits' arrangement with _his _best friend.

She has a feeling that he knows there's something going on between her and Noah – she hopes that Kurt wouldn't arrange all this without at least giving him fair warning – but knowing and seeing are two different things, and she doesn't want to hurt him. She really doesn't. (Though Kurt had mentioned something about a date with a girl who brought her car into Burt's shop, which he'd gone back to full-time since Mr. Schuester came back from Washington, and she's happy that he's taking steps toward being happy.)

The thing is, after two hours in a plane between Kurt, who kept making snarky comments about every other passenger on the plane, and Noah, who kept making _dirty_ comments about every other passenger on the plane, she's forgotten to be nervous. She's still laughing at the two of them, who by this point have teamed up to create the most ridiculous and inappropriate backstories possible for the people around them, when they run into Finn, almost literally, in the baggage claim area. It's so normal for her to have Noah's arm around her shoulders, his fingers playing with her hair, that she honestly doesn't even realize that's where it is at the moment until she sees Finn's eyes locked on that hand. "Hi Finn," she says softly, "thank you for giving us a ride. It's very kind of you."

"Yeah," he says flatly, still staring at Noah's hand on her braid for a second before he lifts his gaze to make eye contact with each of them, a timid smile crossing his face. "Yeah, no problem." He hugs Kurt and fist bumps Noah's free hand and just kind of smiles at her a little bigger, a little more confident than before.

"'M gonna go get our shit," Noah says, tugging the end of her braid, when the baggage carousel begins to turn. He and Kurt take off in that direction and she's left standing there in an awkward silence with her ex-boyfriend. Ex-_fiance_.

Finn is the one to break the silence. "So you guys seem …"

"Good," she supplies when he just trails off and doesn't seem to know what else to say. "We're good."

"That's … good." He just nods a little and stares at the tiled floor. "So … but, I mean, what _are _you?"

"We're …" and see, she never has to answer these questions in New York. In New York she's Rachel and he's Noah and they're able to just leave it at that. "We're enjoying each other's company," she tells him and it sounds ridiculous and lame even to her own ears. "We've been seeing a lot of one another," she tries again, and it sounds a little better in her head and Finn nods a little, so she decides that's her answer for whenever she gets asked that question. (And she has a feeling that's going to happen a lot on this trip.)

Thankfully, it's only seconds later that Kurt and Noah return, Kurt whining about some kind of stain on his designer suitcase and Noah complaining about the amount of things she packed. Finn leads them to the car, Kurt talking a mile a minute about some dinner he's planning for their parents and her and Noah a few steps behind them. He doesn't say anything, but hikes her pink shoulder bag up onto his own shoulder so that his arm is free to wrap around her waist and pull her against him. "It's gonna be a good trip," he kind of mumbles into her ear, even though she knows he'd probably be happier than anyone to be back in New York right now, just before he kisses her temple. She can't help but relax into his hold and slide her own hand up his back to rest between his shoulder blades as they walk.

She almost runs to the back of Carol's car once it's in sight, tugging on the handle of the door to sit right behind the driver's seat. If anyone asks, she'll tell them that as the smallest of the three passengers, it just makes sense for her to sit behind Finn. And that's true. But she also knows that sitting right behind him makes it the most likely that she could possibly just be forgotten and that the three boys will engage in their own conversation over the course of the nearly two-hour car ride.

She spends the first 15 minutes of the drive with her body almost pressed against the door, her hands fidgeting nervously in her lap as her eyes stare blankly out the window. But then Noah reaches across the distance between them and grabs one of her hands roughly in his own and tugs until she's moved as far away from the door as the seatbelt will allow. She looks at him like she has no idea what he's doing (and a part of her really doesn't, it's not like he has any obligation to act like this, to take care of her; she would expect, for the sake of his friendship with Finn, that he'd be content to just leave it alone) and he just winks at her and continues talking to Finn about some baseball team. His thumb runs in circles over the back of her hand as he talks, though, and she's finding it very difficult to remain so tense.

Rachel jolts into awareness when she feels the car come to a stop and just barely registers Noah saying something about 'Sleeping Beauty.' When she opens her eyes she's first met with the dark denim of Noah's jeans stretched across his thighs, and when she tries to move her arm to rub the sleep out of her eyes, she realizes that she's ridiculously tangled in the seatbelt. She groans a little and hears Noah chuckle just before she feels him calmly and patiently unlatching the seatbelt and guiding her through extricating herself from it.

She's still lying across the seat with her head on his lap, though she's more on her back than she was before, when her eyes finally sweep through the car and she sees Kurt and Finn both watching her, smirking a little, from between the two front seats. She has no idea when she fell asleep, or even when she laid down, for that matter, but it's clear that she slept away most of the drive. Aside from the fact that she knows she'll have to endure teasing from at least one (but probably all three) of them about it, she can't say that she's disappointed about that.

"You're home, Rach," Finn grins at her. She hears the trunk pop open and he asks her if she wants him to get her stuff.

"I got it," Noah says, and it doesn't sound possessive or jealous or threatening or anything of the sort. It's just very matter-of-fact.

He follows her up the walk with her bags and when they get to the porch the front door is open, so they both know her fathers are in there, waiting while trying to pretend they're not.

"I'll call ya later, yeah?" he asks as he pulls open the screen door to drop her things just inside.

"Sure," she smiles up at him. "Have a good day with your mother."

He just grunts and rolls his eyes, but she sees the smile he's trying to hold back. He can be as 'badass' as he wants to be; he loves his mother and he'll _never _convince her otherwise.

He leans in for a quick kiss, slipping his tongue past her lips for just a second before he pulls away with a slap to her behind before he heads back down the porch steps. "Call me if ya get bored," he tells her with a smirk and a wiggle of his eyebrows.

"Ugh," she groans and rolls her eyes, "don't be crass." He just laughs and wiggles his brows at her again.

~.~

Rachel misses her friends. So much. Kurt's arrival in New York has made things a lot easier than they'd been when she was completely alone, and having Noah there now just helps that much more, but still. She misses the way things were senior year. No, she was never Miss Popularity. And she was never really pulled into the fold, even the glee fold, with open arms. But they _knew _her and _accepted _her, and no matter what they said, even Santana or Quinn, she knew they cared about her and saw her as more than competition or something that was in their way. (Okay, it may have been that way in the beginning, but it wasn't that way by the end.)

So when Tina calls and asks if it would be okay if a few of 'the girls' (her and Brittany, Rachel had assumed, as well as some of the new members, who she figured were at least worth getting to know) come by, and her daddy tells her that he and Papa had a standing dinner offer that they were hesitant to accept because they didn't want to hurt her feelings by being out of the house on her first night home, she tells her fathers to go out and tells Tina to bring over whoever she wants. She orders pizza and makes nachos with soy cheese for herself and carts snacks, drinks, and her fathers' copy of _Pitch Perfect _down to the basement.

It's only a little awkward when the doorbell rings and the first guests to arrive are Marley, whom Rachel knows only through _Grease_ and the fact that she is Jake's girlfriend (which means only that she's heard random little snippets of information in passing from Noah), and Unique whom, well, she doesn't know at all except as the person who beat her for the Individual MVP award at Nationals last year. (And she's okay with that, really. New Directions won, and that's what was important. But, well, not winning always stings a little, now doesn't it?) She ushers them into the house and gives them a quick tour from the ground floor, because really, she can't imagine that they'd be all that interested in the upstairs, what with it being nothing except her and her fathers' bedrooms.

Just as they're leaving the kitchen, the doorbell rings, and really, the pizza boy has very good timing. She pays him and barely gets the door closed before she and Marley burst into a fit of giggles over the way Unique was watching the poor young man's every move with more than a little interest. She leaves the door unlocked and shoots off a quick text to Tina telling her as much then guides the other two girls down to the basement. She hears them tittering behind her, but she knows they have a friendship she's not a part of, and that sort of thing doesn't bother her quite as much as it used to (she's developing a thicker skin these days, and besides, she's pretty sure they're not being ugly toward her or anything, so whatever).

But when they get to the bottom of the stairs and she sets the pizza on top of the bar that she has mostly avoided since that disastrous night junior year, she turns to be a good hostess and welcome them to make themselves at home and they're just kind of staring at her. Finally, Unique elbows Marley a little in the ribs until she takes a step forward and clears her throat.

"So, Rachel," Marley stammers before looking back over her shoulder at Unique, "what did you think of the pizza boy? Or did you even notice him? Because, I mean, since I've been with Jake, I hardly even notice other guys, and I didn't know if maybe _you _have a reason not to notice other guys, or -,"

"Oh for goodness sake," Unique cuts in, "what's going on with you and Puckerman the first?"

"Ooh!" Rachel hears from the top of the stairs, and she looks up to see Tina and Brittany rushing toward them, Tina almost falling over herself as she calls out to them. "Wait for me! I need to hear this too!"

"Hi Rach," Brittany says calmly (well, calmly for Brittany, which is still rather bubbly) when she and Tina are standing in the basement with the rest of them.

"Umm, hi, Brittany," she answers, plastering a smile onto her face. "Tina. I'm so glad you called. It's lovely to get to spend time with all of you like this. I've really missed -,"

"Yeah yeah," Tina waves her off. "Get to the good stuff. What's going on with you and Puck?"

"Oh," Rachel says and tries not to let her smile falter. She knew there would be some sort of interest in her and Noah, but she thought it would at least come after they'd been seen together or something. She's pretty sure Finn wouldn't have called the others to tell them about what he'd seen when he picked them up, so she's not sure where this is coming from. "Well, we … Okay, um, you see, we're …"

"He told Jake there's something going on between you two," Marley tells her gently, and okay, that explains how they all know. But she's a little surprised by that too, to be honest. She hadn't realized he talked about their … _arrangement _to people, especially to people in Lima. People like his _family_.

She takes a deep breath and builds up her confidence a little. Knowing that he has said _something _at least makes her feel a little better about sharing her side with the girls. "We've been seeing a lot of each other," she says evenly, remembering her decision about that particular wording at the airport with Finn.

"Naked?" Brittany asks.

Rachel's jaw drops and she stares at the blonde, but she can tell that there was no malice or teasing in the question, just curiosity (and she doesn't think Brittany has even considered the idea that that might be a private topic she wouldn't want to discuss). Still, as she continues to stare at Brittany she can hear Unique snicker and out of the corner of her eye she can see Tina and Marley, their heads whipping from one side to the other, looking between her and Brittany as if they were in a tennis match.

"Umm," she stammers before swallowing down her surprise and hesitance and finally blurting out, "sometimes."

She feels her face, her neck, even her chest, burning and the other three go completely silent and stare at her while Brittany just reaches across her for a slice of pizza and says, "That's good. Puck's good at the naked stuff." And while she doesn't necessarily enjoy the reminder of all the people Noah had been with before coming to New York, including a handful of her friends from glee club, there is nothing hurtful in Brittany's statement. The others are still staring at her, and she's feeling a little emboldened by her last statement and Brittany's reaction to it, so she just gives them a sly smile before crossing the room to join Brittany on the couch.

All in all, Rachel really enjoys herself – swooning with the girls over Skylar Astin, laughing at every hilarious and ridiculous moment in the movie, trying _not _to laugh when Tina compares Bumper to Jesse – and she doesn't even really mind that every 20 minutes or so one of the girls finds an excuse to slip a question about her and Noah (almost always some variation of the _same _question) into the conversation. Honestly, it's what she expects, now that she knows they're aware that there is something to ask questions about.

Later, after Marley and Unique have already left and she's walking Tina and Brittany to the door, Tina looks at her rather seriously and holds her hand a little and says, "I'm being serious this time, Rachel, how is everything with Puck? Are you happy?"

She smiles and is already working on her answer when Brittany cuts her off.

"Of course she is. She's his Jewish American Princess and he's Noah. Of course he makes her happy."

"It's hard to argue with that logic," she winks at Brittany and smiles just a little wider at Tina.

"But you're not dating?" None of them seemed to really grasp that no matter how many times she'd said it over the course of the evening.

She hesitates only for a second before shaking her head and telling Tina, "No. Like I said, we've been seeing a lot of each other, but he's not my boyfriend and I'm not his girlfriend. But it's good. We're good. We're both happy." She lifts one shoulder casually, "So it's good."

Tina leaves with a look on her face that tells Rachel she still doesn't quite get it and a promise to call her in a few days to get together at least one more time, maybe with the whole group, before Rachel heads back to New York.

~.~

Obviously, the best part about Rachel's trips back home is her fathers, and she wants to spend as much time with them as possible. But they both have jobs. Jobs that they have taken enough days off from to visit her in New York. So she's mostly on her own on Monday, her second day back in town. She would never ask one of her friends to skip school on her account, but when Blaine calls her in the morning and mentions that he's a senior, and through with finals, and can really afford to miss a day, she's more than happy to take him up on his offer for coffee. Besides, she's sure that having Kurt back in town but not really talking to him can't be easy. He may have been Kurt's boyfriend first, but he was still her friend. (And she hasn't let either of them forget that _she _kissed him first, misguided and alcohol-fueled as it may have been.)

"So," he starts before she's even in the chair across from him at the Lima Bean, "a little birdie tells me that we have _lots _of things to talk about."

She hums into her cup and takes a long sip of her soy latte, quite enjoying the tortured look on Blaine's face. "Yes, there are quite a few big-mouthed-birdies in this town, aren't there?" (Birdies who she'd just been with less than 12 hours before, she mentally notes, and wonders which one of them fired up the phone tree before even pulling out of her driveway.)

"Oh come on," he laughs as he crosses his arms over his chest and settles back into his chair. "You didn't really think that the fact that you and Puckerman are dating wouldn't get around."

She just shakes her head and swirls her cup in her hand. "We're not dating."

"Rachel," he deadpans. "It's me, okay? I get why you wouldn't want to spill it all to Marley and Unique. You barely know them. But it's _me,_" he props his forearms on the table and leans into them, his eyes wide, "your Tony."

She can't help but laugh at that. She should maybe be offended by the cheap trick he's trying to pull, but really. It's not like she wouldn't do the same thing. Instead she eggs him on a little. "I know," she sighs dreamily, dropping an elbow onto the table to lean across it and cup his cheek with her hand. "And I'll always cherish our time together." She pats his cheek a little roughly, "But Noah and I aren't dating. End of story."

"Okay, fine," Blaine pouts and she laughs a little more, "but you should know that Brittany says you're getting naked together. In those words."

She won't make eye contact with him after that, staring down at the table as she takes one tiny sip after another of her coffee.

"Oh my God," he hisses, looking around to see if anyone is watching them. "You're having no-strings-attached sex with Noah Puckerman?"

"There are a _few _strings," she tells him, setting her cup carefully on the table and tracing around and around the bottom of it with one index finger. He's quiet for a while, and when she looks up he's just looking back at her expectantly, like he wants her to tell him what exactly those strings are. She sighs like she's irritated by it all, but honestly, she thinks maybe talking about it will be good for her, or at least that she'll enjoy _getting _to talk about it, about Noah, with someone. Kurt won't have any of it (he claims that he has more than enough firsthand knowledge of their 'relations'), and though she's sure Noah's ego would appreciate the stroking, he doesn't _need _to hear many of the things she would like to say about him. "We're only with each other. That's the most important one."

Blaine nods and actually looks a little relieved. She appreciates that, for some reason.

"And he doesn't _have _to stay with me every night. But usually he does, so if he's not going to come over he calls to tell me so I don't worry."

That protective look Blaine was wearing is starting to shift to a more skeptical one as he just hums at her. "I see. And all these nights he's spending with you, do you have sex every time?"

Rachel feels herself blushing just a little. Actually …

"Seriously?" Blaine asks, a little annoyed, a little incredulous. "Every night?"

"Well …" she starts, trailing off for a few seconds before finally going on. "No, not _every _night. Not when I'm, you know."

"Oh," Blaine says, but it's clear he didn't get the full implication of that at first because a few seconds later his nose scrunches almost violently. "Oh – ew." He closes his eyes and drinks about half of his coffee in one gulp before shaking his head and going on. "Well, what about then, does he come over then?"

She nods and starts talking without really thinking. "Yes. It's really nice, actually. A lot of times he rubs my back. And last time my cramps were really bad so he brought over a heating pad he had from football."

"Right."

She wants to slap herself because now he's wearing that smug look he has and acting like she just proved him right or something.

"Has he ever gone to a show with you?" The way he's smirking at her as he leans back into his chair tells her that he already knows the answer to that question.

"I have to. It's a requirement for one of my classes."

"Yeah, and it's too bad your roommate hates that sort of thing."

"Blaine -,"

"No, no," he waves her off. "I'm just trying to make sure I understand. So you're sleeping with each other, _only _each other?"

It sounds like a question but he doesn't give her a chance to respond.

"And he spends almost every night with you, even when he knows he's not getting any, and then he actually takes care of you. And I can only assume that means he takes care of you at other times as well, and I _don't _mean sexually?"

Again, he doesn't give her time to answer, but if she has to guess, she would say that the look on her face affirms his assumption.

"And he goes with you to college productions that we both know he wouldn't be caught dead at on his own." He finishes off his coffee and smirks proudly and she can only huff, because it's not like he's wrong. "But you're not dating."

"No," she tells him firmly.

"He's not your boyfriend."

"No."

"You're not his girlfriend."

"That's typically what the two previous statements mean, yes," she bites back.

And he has the nerve to _laugh _as he stands and walks around the table, holding out his elbow to her when he's at her side. She stomps and huffs a little when she stands and jams her hand through the offered arm.

"It ain't just a river in Egypt, sweetheart," he murmurs before tilting his head to rest his temple against her hair as he guides her through the shopping center.

~.~

Rachel pulls her old soft cotton robe over her shoulders as she steps out of the shower and tugs her hair down out of the high, messy bun she'd put it in to keep it dry. She knows it's probably silly to shower now then wash her hair in the morning, but she can't stand the thought of _not _showering before bed (it would disrupt her skincare routine far too much) and right now she's far too tired to have to deal with drying her hair. She's glad to be home, but it's rather exhausting – making the rounds to see everyone she needs to see, trying to squeeze in all the things her fathers 'have' to do with her while she's home – and on top of that, she's not been sleeping well. It's only been two nights, but both of them were awful. (She thinks maybe she knows why, but she's trying not to think about that.)

"Daddy," she calls as she makes her way down the stairs toward the living room after several more minutes of exfoliating and moisturizing, "I was thinking about going to the grocery store tomorrow while you and Papa are at work. Is there anything in particular you would like? I'd really like to try a new vegan pasta recipe I found online, and …" she trails off when she gets to the entry to the living room and just kind of stares for a second. "You're not -,"

"Daddy?" Noah smirks. "Nope. Went to bed a couple minutes after he let me in. Said to tell ya goodnight and ask if you'd go to the store tomorrow. He left a list in the kitchen."

Normally, it would warm her heart that she and her father were so in sync, but right now she can't take her mind off the fact that Noah is slouched down into her fathers' couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table (at least he had the decency to remove his shoes) and one hand tucked behind his head while the other plays with the television remote. She tries to remember if he said anything about coming over when the boys dropped her off the other day, but she knows he didn't, and other than a few texts here and there, they haven't talked at all since then.

"Oh," is all she manages at first, and when Noah chuckles a little she finally gets herself together. "What are you doing here?"

"What?" He drops his hand from behind his head onto the arm of the couch and tries to look serious (it doesn't really work because his eyes keep sparkling and she knows he's still teasing), "You don't want me here?"

"You know that's not true," she tells him as she crosses the living room and sits gingerly on the arm of the couch, his hand coming up to rest on her back. "I'm just surprised. You didn't say anything about coming over."

"Yeah, I didn't really plan it. I just had to get outta that fuckin' house."

She's actually concerned as she looks down at him. "Is everything okay?"

"S'fine. Just … they're drivin' me crazy. Guess I forgot what it was like."

Rachel laughs. "Yes, it can be a bit of a wake-up call to come home after being away." She stands and takes a few steps away from the couch before turning to look back at him. "It definitely makes you appreciate what you have away from here, huh?" He just snorts and nods once.

"Noah, it's great to see you, really, and I'm glad this is where you chose to come when you needed to get away, but I'm exhausted. I _have _to try to get some sleep." His brow furrows a little and he drops his feet to the floor and leans forward, propping his forearms on his knees.

"Can we please go upstairs and finish this conversation in bed?" All at once his eyes widen and one side of his mouth quirks up into a smile and he pushes himself up off the couch, and she realizes that he thought she was going to kick him out. That's cute, she thinks, almost sarcastically, as they head toward her room, neither of them saying anything.

Halfway up the stairs, he says something about the fact that her daddy just let him in the house and didn't seem at all uncomfortable leaving him alone in the living room, didn't even seem surprised to see him, and asks if he's going to have to sneak out in the morning. "Noah," she sighs a little, "my fathers trust me and know that I have good judgment. Besides, they know we've been spending a lot of time together. It just makes sense that it wouldn't be a shock to them to see you here." She can tell he's not as close behind her as he was, and when she turns to look at him once she's at the top of the stairs he's just standing there looking at her closely, studying her, almost.

Before she gets a chance to ask him why he's looking at her like that, he continues up the stairs and asks, "So, is that a no on the sneaking out, or …"

"Yes, Noah," she rolls her eyes and goes on to the bedroom, "that's a no."

"Cool," he grins a little as he closes the door behind him. She watches as he doesn't even hesitate to begin undressing, tugging off his socks and throwing them in her desk chair then draping his jeans and finally his t-shirt over the back of it. She's still watching, almost amused at how at ease he is, when he crosses the room to the left side of the bed and jerks back the blankets before sliding between the sheets and pulling the covers halfway up his stomach. "You comin'?" he asks, and she just shakes her head a little at him before she pulls off her robe to hang it on the back of the door and picks up the t-shirt he just discarded. "Whatcha doin'?"

"I just," her voice is muffled and she stops until she has the shirt all the way over her head. "I'm not really comfortable sleeping naked here. I mean," she climbs into the bed with him, laying on her side and propping her head up on her hand to look over at him, "I know my fathers would never come in uninvited, but still. It just feels … _wrong_, somehow."

"Well," he wraps an arm around her waist and drags her across the bed so there are only a few inches between them, "you look hot as Hell in my clothes, but _this _feels pretty wrong to me."

She leans forward a little to kiss him, and it's meant to be just a quick kiss – a thank you, really, for that comment – but she realizes as it's happening that it's been two whole days since she kissed him and his lips feel so good against hers, and he has this thing he does with his tongue that makes her a little insane, and by the time she's gathered her wits enough to pull away he's rolled onto his back and pulled her with him so she's sprawled across his chest.

"Fuckin' missed kissin' you," he says nearly exactly what she was just thinking and all she can do is hum. "Miss this." His hands slide down her back until they reach the bottom of his shirt, just barely brushing the tops of her thighs, then he pushes them back up under it until they're resting on her butt.

"My butt?" She giggles a little into the question.

"Damn straight," he smirks. "But also, ya know, just this. Havin' you with me. S'been weird sleepin' by myself."

"I've slept terribly the last two nights," she admits against his chest. She really didn't want to admit it, but she's been pretty sure since Sunday night that the problem was that she was alone. She never could quite get warm enough, and she kept leaning back only to have nothing to lean against and end up toppling over onto her back. It's too quiet too, without his breath in her ear and his heart beating against her back.

"Gotcha hooked, didn't I?" His voice is so, so cocky, and she knows the expression on his face would match if she bothered to look up at it. Instead she rolls her eyes even though she knows he can't see it and rolls off him back onto her side. "Guess it's a good thing my Ma's so fuckin' annoying, then, or you wouldn't be gettin' any sleep at all."

She's torn between pointing out that he's assuming a lot (correctly, but that's beside the point) about her dependence on him and asking exactly what was going on at home that drove him here. She decides to go with the latter and ignore the former, because she knows it would only lead to a potentially endless string of cocky statements about his own importance in her life, which would in turn lead to seemingly endless banter between them and she really is too tired for that tonight.

"What could your mother have done that was so bad, anyway?"

He huffs and stares up at the ceiling as he talks, "Fuckin' Brittany, man. Sam and Brittany came over after school." His hand drifts across the pillow where it had been resting to play with her hair as he talks, and even as he's cursing their old friend he's smiling a little and she figures that whatever Brittany did couldn't really be all that bad. Besides, like her, he probably finds it nearly impossible to actually be angry with the girl. "First thing she did was ask me if you're good at the 'naked stuff' too. Ma was like, 10 feet away. Oh, and Rachel," he gives a sharp tug to a lock of hair that he's just twisted around his finger and rolls onto his side to face her, "why is Brittany asking me about doing 'naked stuff' with you?"

Rachel sighs, a heavy, deflating exhale, and closes her eyes. "Because the girls came over for movie night on Sunday and immediately started bombarding me with questions about us. Apparently," she opens her eyes, but only a little, so they're kind of narrowed at him, "_your _brother informed them that there was something to ask about." She likes that he actually looks a little sheepish when she says that, like he's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar or something. "And I tried telling them that we're seeing a lot of each other and leaving it at that, but Brittany asked me if we've been seeing a lot of each other _naked_. I didn't know what else to do, and I don't really want to lie about it, so I told them the truth."

"Yeah, well, now my Ma knows about the naked time we're spending together, so …"

"God," she groans, turning and burying her burning face in the pillow, "that's mortifying. I can only imagine what your mother thinks of me now."

He actually snorts at that. "Ma's always thought you were like, my holy grail or something . She's fuckin' thrilled. So fuckin' thrilled she won't stop talkin' about it. I had to leave because if she asked me one more time what I meant when I said that we're hanging out, and fuck, sleeping together, obviously, but not _dating_, I was gonna start breakin' shit. She thinks I'm like, corrupting you or disrespecting you or whatever because clearly _I'm _the one in the wrong here and you _must _want me to be your boyfriend but I'm just too stupid or whatever to get my act together. I think she's thinks I'm leadin' you on or stringin' you along or whatever."

She keeps her face pressed into the pillow for a moment because there's a tone to his voice that she isn't quite sure what it means. It almost sounds like he's saying that he wouldn't mind being boyfriend and girlfriend. But that's just – it's just so different from what she's believed all along. And obviously she doesn't think he dislikes her; she knows he cares about her, actually. She's just been convinced that he didn't really want a girlfriend, period.

"Yes, well," she finally says and rolls back over onto her side so she's facing him again, "my fathers are about the only people I _haven't _been trying to explain myself to. They were actually very understanding when I told them that we've been," she pauses for a second, because even though she's spent the last three days trying to explain them to everyone else, she's never actually tried to explain them to _him_, and she doesn't want to say that they are something that is completely different from what he thinks they are. "Casually seeing each other," she finally says. He doesn't really react to that at all, so she thinks it must be okay. "But I already told you what happened when I tried to explain things to the girls. And I spent yesterday morning with Blaine, and he was just so incorrigible about the whole thing, reading into everything I said and trying to insist that every little thing was more than I said it was."

Noah nods and she guesses he must have been experiencing at least a little of the same. "After we dropped you off the other day, Finn took Kurt home and asked me if we could hang out for a while. We just drove around Lima for like, an hour, so he could grill me about you." He stops talking just long enough to shake his head then starts again. "Had dinner with Jake last night at Breadsticks. Wasn't too bad 'cause our moms were there, but if he tried to whisper to me one more time in the back of the car on the way home I was gonna punch'im in the face."

"Ugh," she moans, and she hates herself a little for acting like a baby, but she can't really help it. "We have five more days of this. I don't-I don't know what to tell them anymore. It's not like any of them listen to anything we say."

"You know what," he says, and suddenly there's a look of steely determination on his face, "fuck'em. Next time somebody asks, just tell'em we're together. You say we're dating and I'll say you're my girl, and maybe they'll leave us the Hell alone."

"But," her throat's gone a little dry and she imagines that she must look a little like a bug with the way her eyes have grown so wide. "Noah, if we do that, it's-it's going to spread. Quickly. It will probably take approximately an hour after one of us says that to the first person before everyone in this town – people who _aren't _even in this town, probably – are going to know that we're … that we're in a relationship." She almost whispers the last word like she's scared it will spook him.

"Yeah, so?" She expects a grin, or at least a smirk, but he looks quite serious.

"Noah, that's … is that … I mean, are you okay with that?" He looks at her like he has no clue what she's talking about. "If we do this, we're putting labels on ourselves, on _us_. People are going to say I'm your girlfriend, and … and call you my boyfriend."

Now he smirks. "I've been called worse."

She stares back at him for a second, because – he's actually serious about this. "You're-you're really okay with this." It's not really a question. She can see that he is.

"Yeah Rach," he smiles at her, and it's sweet and a little soft and different from usual, and wraps his arm around her, pulling her toward him and scooting toward her so that they meet in the middle. "I'm okay. You okay?"

She grins so wide her cheeks hurt a little and nods emphatically. "I'm really, really good."

He chuckles at her and kisses her cheek. "Good."

He leans in to kiss her cheek again, and her hand comes up to rest on the back of his head, her thumb tracing around his ear. She holds him where he is and turns her head as he keeps kissing her until her lips are pressed against his. She slides her tongue over his lips and into his mouth before he has a chance to do it to her and while he's distracted she pushes her weight against him so that he rolls onto his back and shifts so that she's over him, straddling his hips as her fingers dig into his shoulders.

"Baby?" He asks as his hands slide down her back and over her hips until they rest on her bare thighs. "What're you doin', Rachel?"

"Come on, Noah," her voice is low and husky and she's not even trying for it to be that way. "You can't lay here with me and … and, make things official, and not expect me to want to _celebrate_."

"Shit," he growls. "Baby, _fuck_," his fingers dig into the flesh on her legs when she shifts her hips, moving them forward just a little then back. "I wanna celebrate the _fuck _outta you right now, but your dads … we're in your dads' house, Rachel. They're right down the hall."

"Well," she smirks and she's trying her hardest to make her look just as mischievous as any he's ever worn. She lowers her upper body so that her chest is pressed against his and leans in so close to his ear that her lips brush across it when she whispers, "I guess you'll just have to try to be quiet, then." She nips at his earlobe with her teeth before starting to slide down his body bit by bit, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against his jaw, his neck, his shoulder, his chest, as she goes.

Rachel's a competitive person. _Very _competitive. And Noah knows this. So he should have known that, eventually, the little game he likes to play where he tries to make her be loud enough for Kurt to hear so she'll be embarrassed in the morning would come back to bite him. (And, by the way, Kurt started sleeping in earplugs over a month ago. Noah doesn't know. He doesn't need to.) She didn't plan for that to happen on this trip, but when opportunity knocks …

She looks up at him when she's kissing a line right down the middle of his stomach, and he's just staring back at her, his eyes dark and his tongue darting out to wet his lips roughly once every seven seconds. Out of the corner of her eye she sees that when his hands fell off her legs they landed on the mattress and now they're clenching the sheet tightly between his fingers. So far, she's left her own hands on his shoulders, her nails biting in every so often because he likes that kind of thing now and then, but she slides them slowly down his chest and over his (lovely) abs until she hooks them over the waist band of his underwear. She pulls them down slowly and at the same time traces her tongue in a slow circle around his belly button, and she watches his eyes squeeze closed and his head press back into the pillow.

While his eyes are still closed, she lifts her head just enough that her lips don't touch him anymore but her breath still fans over his skin as she moves. (She knows this because she can see the goosebumps.) She doesn't kiss him again, moving straight to the base of him as one hand keeps working his underwear down his legs until, without opening his eyes or lifting his head, he kicks them off. Right when she sees him starting to relax – the muscles in his forearms start to loosen and the creases around his eyes from squeezing them so tightly shut disappear – she presses her lips against him then slips her tongue out and runs it all the way from base to tip. When she gets there, she swirls her tongue around his head just once before opening her mouth wide enough to slip all of him past her lips. Before she even takes him in all the way, his hand is pushing roughly into her hair.

He doesn't use his hand to guide her, just leaves it on the back of her head, massaging her scalp now and then and occasionally gripping tight around her hair. At the risk of seeming conceited, she knows she's very good at this. He tells her every time, and even if he didn't, his body does.

She's picked up her pace, moving slowly up until barely any of him is still in her mouth then pushing back down harder and faster, and she's just started humming around him when he uses his grip on her hair to pull her off of him completely. He smoothes his hand over her hair a couple times then tucks it behind her ear before telling her in a hoarse whisper, "Shit baby, I can't … You gotta fuckin' stop that Rachel. I can't."

"Why, Noah?" She feigns innocent confusion as she crawls back up his body and settles her knees on either side of his hips.

He narrows his eyes and shakes his head at her. "You _know _why, Rachel. Jesus."

She feels wanton and sexy and powerful and _wanted_ right now. That's what he does to her. (Among other things – but that's what he's doing to her right now.) "Maybe you just need to try a little harder to be quiet," she tells him, leaning forward and sliding one hand up his chest while the other slides between them to wrap around him and pump slowly. He grabs her face with both hands and pulls her down so that her lips crash against his. She moans a little herself when he pushes his tongue past her lips, but she doesn't lose her rhythm.

Still kissing him, she lowers her hips over him until he's just brushing against her. She maneuvers him with her hand, running his head back and forth between her folds a few times until he's slick with her wetness, before, suddenly and forcefully, pushing herself down on him. He lets out a strangled groan and bites down on her lip a little and she just sits there for a second with him completely filling her, swiveling her hips almost imperceptibly in a circle. He watches her as she pulls away, his eyes locked with hers while she goes back to sitting upright on top of him.

"You are fucking amazing," he tells her when she increases her movements, grinding herself against him as she makes a figure eight with her hips. "So good," he grinds out between clenched teeth.

She loves sex with Noah. (Not that she has much to compare it against, but it's not like she has to have had _bad _sex to know how _good _this is.) He's sometimes rough and other times gentle and sweet, and either way he makes her feel like she's the only woman in the world he ever wants to do this with again. And he gives her orgasms, of course, but on the way there he pushes her to her limits and makes her forget that there is a world outside of him and her and the two of them moving together. And, God, the way he looks at her. Right now he's looking at her like she's the only thing in the world he's ever wanted, and honestly, at that very moment, she believes it's probably true.

"Show me what you want, Noah," she whispers. She's been more forward lately. More than she would have ever expected herself capable of, actually. But again, that's just what he does to her – makes her feel and think and say things that she would never have even considered with anyone else. And then he makes her feel like he loves it that way.

He just stares at her for a few seconds like he really doesn't know how to answer that. She's proud of that – like she's already doing such a good job that he doesn't know what else to ask for. But finally he brings his hands to her knees and pushes them up her thighs until they rest on her hips, pushing his shirt up around her waist so that he can see their bodies coming together, and uses them to lift her up until he's almost all the way out of her before pulling her back down on him, hard and fast. She gasps a little when he bottoms out in her, because it's not too hard, but almost. He does it again, and this time on the way down he pushes his own hips up into her so that they meet in the middle.

He's still using his hands on her hips to guide her – up and down first at a bruising, frantic pace, then slower and gentler and almost just grinding against him rather than really _moving_, then fast again – and she notices that he's watching, staring, really, as he slides in and out of her. Noah's very much a visual person, that's no surprise to her, and since her goal is to make him lose control the way he's always trying to do to her, she brings her hands to her chest and cups her own breasts over the shirt she's wearing, flicking her thumbs over her nipples. It feels nice, obviously, but honestly, it's the way his eyes follow the movement and he hisses out a, "shit," that has her feeling warmer and tighter inside.

She recognizes the look on his face and sees the way nearly all of his muscles begin to strain and when he moves one hand to press against her she knows he's close and is trying to make sure she gets there first. It kills her, but as soon as his thumb brushes across her nerves, her own hand slaps it away. He's looking up at her like he's afraid that he's hurt her or something until she slides her own middle finger through her wetness and starts to rub in tight little circles.

She doesn't do this, really. Well, yeah, she does it, but only alone. (And very, very rarely, lately. She has no need to now.) But Noah's made comments before that let her know it's something he would enjoy seeing, though he's never pushed her to do it. So she figures this is as good a time as any.

"Fuck," he growls, his voice significantly louder than the whisper he'd been trying to keep it at. "Jesus Christ, baby, you're gonna kill me Rachel, I swear."

She moves her hand a little faster, slides her index finger down so that it's pressed alongside the middle one as they both press and move against her, and kneads her breast with the other hand, the cotton of his shirt sliding roughly over her nipple. (And really, she'd rather have his hands on her, but she's getting close nonetheless and it's quite obvious how much he's enjoying it.) "Noah," she whines, "harder. Please. I'm close."

He does what she asks, his fingers digging into her hips and his hips thrusting up to meet her every time he pulls her down. Her climax comes quickly and she actually hears herself crying out, just once, into the air around them as she trembles and flutters and clenches around him while he continues to push up into her.

She's so, so sensitive, and she can't take much, but she knows he's close, and she can tell how much he likes it, so she keeps her hand where it is, moving it slowly and lightly over herself. Noah's jaw clenches and he watches her so, so closely right up until the moment he jerks her down onto him and holds her there, biting out a growled, "Shit," much more loudly than she knows he wants to, and then his head finally falls back into the pillow and his eyes fall closed. She feels it, him letting go inside her, and when he's finished she lets herself fall forward so that her body covers his (as much as her small frame will allow) while they wait for their breathing to return to normal and the blood to return to the parts of their bodies that desperately need it. (Like her brain, for instance.)

"Noah," she finally murmurs once she feels like she's mostly back in her right mind.

"Shh," he tells her softly, and she stills – even her thumbs stop tracing the little circles they were making where her hands rest on his shoulders – because that's surprising. Confusing, even. It's not that they never have gentle moments; it happens more often than most people would probably believe. But that's just, well, he's not exactly the 'sweet nothings' type, after sex or any other time.

She pushes herself up to look at his face and shifts around a little until he slides out of her. She sees the little wince on his face as it happens, and she's not crazy about the loss either. "Is everything -,"

"Shh," he hisses again, more urgently, and his wide eyes dart around the room. "Did you hear that?" he whispers.

"Noah, I have no idea," she starts in her normal tone of voice, only to be cut off again.

"Christ, baby," he's actually leaning up, lifting his head toward her, so he can talk even more quietly. "Can you just be quiet? Shit."

She's too shocked to be offended, and she has no idea what's going on in his mind.

"There it is again!"

Okay, now she _is _starting to get offended, because he's pushing her off him so he can sit up completely and really, is this even the same man who just 30 minutes ago looked at her and told her that he wanted to be her boyfriend and he didn't care who knew it? (She's paraphrasing, of course, but still. All traces of that man have currently gone AWOL.)

"Shit, okay," she's pretty sure he's talking to himself and not her, because he's certainly not looking at her. "That was one a'your dads, right? I mean, it had to be. There's no one else here. So he heard us, and now he's up, and shit. I'm so fucked. Which one do you think it was?" He finally turns and looks at her like he actually expects an answer, and she has to try so, so hard not to giggle, because he looks absolutely _terrified _and now she gets it_._ "Which one's less likely to kill me?" He asks earnestly.

She bites her lip for a second and casts her eyes downward to watch his hands running up and down, up and down, over his thighs on top of the sheet he's pulled up to cover himself. She actually feels a little bad, because even when Kurt really _has _heard them before, it's not like there were any real consequences for her as a result. (Other than listening to Kurt complain about how traumatic it was to him to have to hear that, of course.) Still though, it's pretty funny. She lifts her hand to scratch her fingers lightly over the back of his head, to maybe comfort him a little.

"Noah, they didn't hear us," she says evenly.

He doesn't even seem to hear her. "Where are my clothes?" His head whips around to the chair where he'd left them when he undressed for bed. "Gimme my shirt, Rach. I gotta, shit, I gotta go."

"Noah, stop." She grabs his wrist with her free hand and slides the other one down to curl around the back of his neck. "You're not leaving."

"Look babe," he's already thrown one leg off the bed when he turns to look back at her. "I'm glad we got The Talk outta the way, and I was really lookin' forward to sleepin' with ya, like for real sleepin' so we can both actually get some, but unless you want your new boyfriend to be your _dead _boyfriend, you gotta help me get out that window before your dad gets in here."

"They didn't hear us."

He just stares back at her like she's speaking a foreign language.

"They didn't hear us," she repeats, "and you don't hear either of them."

"But -,"

"No buts, Noah." She can see that he's still uncomfortable, but she also knows she's got his interest, because he's stopped trying to squirm away from her. "Would you like to know a secret, Noah?"

"Rachel -,"

"Would you like to know a _secret_, Noah?" She's just barely smiling at him and his eyes narrow and she knows that's all she's going to get.

"When I was in middle school, the neighbors started to complain. About my voice training, my piano training, my dance training. I took classes for all those things at studios, of course, but it's not like I got to where I am today by resting on my laurels. No, I practiced. And practiced. And practiced. Here. And apparently, our neighbors can't appreciate true, raw talent. At first my fathers looked into renting studio space just for my independent practices, but it just wasn't practical. Over the years the cost would have been astronomical, and, frankly, that option didn't afford me the flexibility in scheduling that I required. I mean, what if I awoke at 2 a.m. with a song in my heart that I just had to get out? Don't think it never happened. So instead, they hired a contractor to come in and soundproof the room. That's why I have the intercom," she pointed to the speaker beside the door.

Noah doesn't look. He doesn't take his eyes off her, actually.

"Your room is fuckin' soundproofed?" he finally grumbles. She tries to make her smile look bashful as she nods. "There's no way they coulda heard anything?" She drops her head a little and looks up at him through her lashes while she shakes her head.

For a second he just smirks and shakes his own head right back at her, then he twists and springs off the bed a little to tackle her onto her back. She giggles and squeals while he settles himself between her legs. When he gets comfortable and mostly stops moving she lifts her legs and wraps them around his waist, crossing her ankles over the small of his back. He holds himself up on one forearm, that hand barely moving through the hair that's fanned out beside her shoulder, and brings the other hand up to move from her knee down to her hip and back up again.

"You know you're gonna pay for that, right?" His eyes are dark and his smirk is utterly sinful as he looks down at her.

Rachel just smiles and nods. She does know. But considering his idea of payback will be working to give her the loudest possible orgasm he can pull out of her (though at what will undoubtedly be the most inopportune, humiliating moment possible), she doesn't think she's going to mind.


End file.
